


Snow, Ice and the Thirteen Dwarves

by badcrossoverqueen



Series: Loyalty, Honour, and a Frozen Heart [1]
Category: Frozen (2013), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Cultural Differences, Gen, I'm Sorry Tolkien, Not Beta Read, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-07 20:14:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1912287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badcrossoverqueen/pseuds/badcrossoverqueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>In Arendelle's fair kingdom, a ruler shall appear, </i>
  <br/><i>Born with sorcery so great, alone she’ll live in fear.</i>
  <br/><i>Though she’ll try to hold it back, one day she’ll let it go,</i>
  <br/><i>and Rhovanion will be frozen in her blizzard’s ice and snow.</i>
</p>
<p>--<br/>In this work, I add a nervous, power-incontinent snow queen to the already hectic political atmosphere of TA 2941 Middle Earth. Because Gandalf doesn't have enough on his plate as is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting In Bree

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, as I am a sad, lonely little uni student that likes playing in other writer’s sandpits because I have no real originality. Please don’t sue me; I have no money. My knowledge of Middle Earth's lore may be subpar at best, so brace yourselves because I'm going to try and fit in Arendelle and its people as best I can.

Bree, like many other small human towns, was gritty, dark and somewhat dismal. The whole outside area was a blur of browns, greys and flares of orange- possibly a somewhat hearty, pleasant sight, if not for the factors that negated its positive aspects. The disshelved, shadowy individuals, unappealing smell, and dismal weather were not kind to the senses.

The Prancing Pony was, at least, a little more tolerable than the muddy scenery outside. It was crowded, granted, but one needed that if they did not want to stick out. Raucous laughter could mask the most secretive of conversations, and thick throes of drunken braggarts could hide royalty and cutthroats alike.

When Thorin Oakenshield looked up from his meal spied two unsavoury individuals eyeing him from either side on other tables, it had appeared as if the climate of the building was not working his favour. Fortunately for the king, an elderly man clad in grey sat before him before the tension could erupt. 

"Mind if we join you?" The wizard asked, as he reached out to drag a chair from the neighbouring table to his left. Another person was with the wizard, clad in a dark blue cloak and dress that covered all but her face and hair. As she sat, the dwarf-king saw the too-pale, slight face of a young woman.  She nodded to the wizard shyly, taking the offered chair sand joining them. As a waitress passed, the man made his order. "We'll have the same, with an additional bowl of soup."

"Now, I should introduce myself," The elderly man said politely and cheerfully, as if he hadn't just stopped a potential assassination attempt. "I am Gandalf. Gandalf the Grey."

"I know who you are," The dwarf replied, but cast a glance to the woman, who looked visibly uncomfortable. Her posture and manner stuck out in the bawdy crowd, and she was wringing her blue-gloved hands together nervously. Whoever she was, she was not used to their current environment. 

"Ah, forgive me. This is Elsa, who hails from one of the small ice-harvesting kingdoms of men near Forochel. She is a colleague of mine." 

"Good evening," The young lady said, smiling slightly in greeting but obviously not in any way at ease in the situation. Still, she seemed harmless enough, and Thorin dismissed the thought of her as a threat and gave her a nod.

"Well now, this is a fine chance," Gandalf said happily. "What brings Thorin Oakenshield to Bree?"

The ensuing conversation was whispered in hushed, urgent tones, as the two spoke of armies, mountains and war. Elsa sat silently, taking in the information, regardless of the fact that the Grey Pilgrim had told her the basics of the situation beforehand. She had jumped when the serving-girl had arrived with their order, and she had also cast furtive glances side to side, nervously eyeing the grubby, unsavoury individuals staring at them, until at one point, they left, seemingly set off by the mention of the 'King's Jewel'.

"What if I were to help you reclaim it?" Gandalf said conspiratorially. 

"How? The Arkenstone lies half a world away, buried under the feet of a fire breathing dragon," The Dwarf King said, though visibly intrigued.

"Yes it does," The wizard agreed. "We will need two people with very distinct skills at our sides, one of which we already have in this very building."

Thorin's gaze narrowed. "I’m listening."

"The one we have not recruited as of yet," Gandalf continued. "Is a burglar. I have, however, a lead, which means that I may have to make a quick trip to Hobbiton, in The Shire. The lodgings of our potential burglar would be a good meeting point for any company you assemble for this quest. It is a peaceful place, and less favourable individuals would not expect us to gather at such a spot."     

"And the other?"

"Well," Gandalf said, smiling. "The dragon we'll face is a beast of flames. If something goes wrong while we attempt to take the Arkenstone, well, that would cause much difficulty, to say the least, even with a wizard by your side. A little more assistance would not go awry." 

The wizard turned to Elsa. "My lady?" 

She took a breath, nodding uncertainly; and then slipped off the glove she wore. Her hand was as white as her face, and delicate. It was the hand of a noblewoman, one that obviously had never encountered manual labour. Gandalf pushed the bowl of soup to the centre of the table and gestured to it. The dwarf king looked at the wizard as if he’d gone mad.

"To help combat the fire-drake, we will have a person with a unique talent," Gandalf continued, ignoring Thorin’s stare and giving Elsa a meaningful look. The woman hesitantly placed her fingers on the rim of the bowl, so that only her pale index and pointing finger touched the surface of the liquid.

Thorin raised an eyebrow, but his sceptical expression vanished when the soup before him made an odd crinkling sound. Flakes of ice grew, encasing it until every drop was frozen solid, and crusts of frost clung to the outside of the bowl. His eyes widened, and he looked up at Gandalf's smiling face. With her demonstration finished, Elsa withdrew her hand from the bowl immediately, and quickly slipped on her glove.

"We," Gandalf concluded, tapping the frozen soup with one finger and eliciting a solid click when his nail hit ice. "Will have a very gifted ice sorceress."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this little prologue! I'll add a proper chapter sometime this week-ish, if I can. So, um, I thought I might add a bit of what's in store in a separate work sometime soon - there'd probably be a reference just so you readers and I can keep a track of where everything is going and history and lore and whatnot. (I'm new to ao3, so I'm wondering if I'm allowed to do that?) But anyway, feel free to point out any mistakes I've made, and thanks again!


	2. The Coronation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gandalf crashes a party, Hans is a Lord, and I vomit litres of exposition on you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm finally updating! Whee... Seriously though, I have no real excuse, but I've been bitten by the muse bug so I might as well post this impulse-born chapter.

_8 Months Beforehand_

The fact that the isolated human settlements of Forochel called themselves a kingdom would be almost laughable to the likes of Gandalf, who had seen the rise and fall of many greater cities that referred to themselves as mere towns. However, what the small, young kingdom had lacked in size and strength, it compensated for relative wealth and prosperity. The reason for this fortune was that it exported an unusual and coveted resource: fresh Forochel ice, which took less time to melt than most ice, and was easily cut by specialised saws. If placed in an icebox or ice house, it preserved meat, fish and other produce for a good week, not including the time it took for the ice to reach the storage basements of any being wealthy enough to acquire such a luxury.

Arendelle, named after its founder, Aren the Fierce, was the largest of these settlements. This was saying something, considering that its capital was about the size of Laketown. It possessed single, quaint castle, but boasted decent-sized territory, and had a good number of frozen lakes and mountain peaks under its ownership. All of these were absolutely brimming with the ice that granted them their prosperity. Their ice harvesters were the most efficient in the land, producing most of the ice and skilfully transporting it back to the cities, where it would be sold to traders and brought to the rest of Middle Earth. 

Gandalf was reasonably fond of the kingdom as a place to stop in temporarily during his travels, but over the years he had befriended the late king. Even as a young boy, Agdar was absolutely infatuated with the tales of old and the lores of Middle Earth, and would pester the Grey Pilgrim for stories whenever he visited. As soon as he was crowned king, Arendelle's libraries were quickly filled with books from many places - tomes from the halls of Elrond, botany books from the elves of Mirkwood and countless histories from Gondor. The kingdom itself was a joy to visit, with vast evergreen forests and beautiful auroras that lit the night sky spectacularly. 

It was no wonder, then, that Gandalf took the liberty of taking a detour to the Arendelle when he heard that the late king's daughter was to be crowned queen. He had regretted not visiting the family before King Agdar and Queen Idunn's untimely demise, and he had not even met their two daughters. He was already in the area – on his way to Bree and Ered Luin for important business. Naturally, while he was there, he would attend the coronation, out of respect for his old friend.

Gandalf had arrived near the port and took in the scenery. Ships were gathered in the harbour, though they were probably only from other coastal cities along the bay. Despite everything it had, Arendelle and kingdoms like it were still small; with the smallest territories of the current kingdoms of men and little history to fall back on (besides one daring king with a sword, and those weren’t exactly rare). For this reason, it remained out of the interests of most other cultures, and few have heard of any great warriors, kings or generals hailing from the likes of Arendelle. Not many travelled to the area with intent to live there – in this; their export was also their shortcoming. Arendelle’s version of ‘summer’ was ‘no snow and green grass but bitter cold nights’ or ‘you may only lose one finger overnight due to frostbite instead of two’.

As he passed further into the city, Gandalf found crowds teeming with excitement for the upcoming festivities. The grey wizard gazed at one of the banners hanging on the streets. Embroidered on it was the profile of a woman, the new queen, presumably. "She looks so much like her mother," He murmured to himself.

Idunn was a practical, strong-willed and sharp-witted leader, who was the perfect balance in partnership to her her less-than-orthodox husband, and was probably the main reason for his maturing into a wiser, less impulsive king. Her early demise was such a tragedy – not only for Gandalf, who new her, but for her kingdom, who would have benefitted greatly from her long, no doubt prosperous reign.

"Why do I have to wear this?" A nearby child complained to his mother, interrupting Gandalf’s thoughts.

"Because the queen has come of age! It's coronation day," The mother replied, obviously infinitely more happy about the event than her son.

"That's not my fault!" The child answered.

The exchange made the wizard chuckle to himself. No matter what sadness plagued the world, life would still go on. It was no use dwelling on the past, besides, Gandalf wished to meet the new queen and her sister. 

The wizard approached the gates of the palace in his own time, and mingled with the guests, some of which recognised him from stories or memory, and a few even greeted him warmly. There were others, however, that were less welcoming, especially the Lord of Weaseltown, who was suspicious of the likes of Gandalf. The Lord’s somewhat obvious avoidance of him was soon overshadowed by a nearby conversation of two men – obviously nobility, judging by their manner of dress and speech. 

“It has been so long since they’ve opened these gates,” The one in green observed.

“Indeed – too long, really,” The other man agreed. “What a pity that the eldest princess was so sick for all these years - I hope this is a sign that she is feeling much healthier.”

The wizard raised an eyebrow. So the young queen was sickly? He wondered why he had not heard; surely when a monarch suffered from illness, there would be envoys looking for a healer, someone would have consulted Lord Elrond. Especially since the late king had communicated with Rivendell in the past through trade and letters.

“I can’t wait to see the queen and the princess. I bet they’re absolutely lovely!”  
  
“I bet they are beautiful!”

The love the citizens of Arendelle had for the descendants of Aren had certainly not died down – the monarchy was their history in flesh after all. Excessive as it seemed, it was probably the main reason why the shutting of the gates was tolerated, and that Queen Elsa’s right to rule had not been questioned. No one would dare dispute a direct descendant’s claim, not when the citizens loved their leaders so much.

There was much rejoicing and excitement when the gates opened, and Gandalf followed the crowd, until he was immediately pulled aside at the doors the the sacred hall, where the coronation was set to take place.

“Sir, do you have an invitation?” The guard asked, raising an eyebrow in distaste at the attire and appearance of the approaching wizard.

“Oh, do I need one to visit the daughters of an old friend?” Gandalf asked, deliberately looking wearier. 

The armoured guard did not look convinced. “You need one to gain entry to the palace halls, sir. What is the true nature of your visit?”

The wizard huffed indignantly. “Well, if you must know, I come bearing fireworks, as well-“  
  
“Gandalf?” A voice asked, and a woman in a uniform of deep blue briskly approached, a smile on her face. “Is that you?”

“Ah, Gerda,” The wizard said fondly. “It has certainly been a while.”

“Over two decades is hardly befitting of the phrase: ‘a while’. So much has happened since you have been gone,” Gerda said, and her smile waned slightly, before she perked up once more. The plump woman was significantly older than when Gandalf has saw her last, and had obviously advanced to a higher position in the servantry than mere lady-in-waiting. “But you’ve come to visit at last! I was hoping that you’d show up some time, I’ve heard you always do. The new Queen would greatly benefit from meeting you, I’m sure.”

Gerda turned to the guard, waving him away. “This is the Grey Pilgrim, he is authorised to go wherever he pleases. Let him pass.”

This made the armed man jump slightly, straightening up. “Th-the Grey Pilgrim? Oh, of course. My apologies.”

And thus, Gandalf seated himself as the rests of the guests did, as the greetings began and the ceremony was put into motion.

The choir sang in the old tongue of Aren’s people – one of implacable origins long lost after their from diaspora from Eriador. There was a moment of silence, and then the Queen herself approached from the aisles, dressed in a fine teal dress and a flowing plum cape lined with silk. Being the queen, her dress was in the style traditional Arendellian fashion– with bright colours, elaborate designs and tight-fitting sleeves, though it was odd to wear a winter dress in summer. Behind her, a younger woman followed – obviously the princess, who shared more characteristics of her father. The old wizard watched as they passed.

He was right in his earlier observation, the queen's pointed, slight features were almost identical to that of her mother, but still, the bearded wizard frowned. Everything should have been typical of the coronation – the monarch stood tall and poised, her crown awaiting her. However, none of the expensive attire masked the a few oddities: the young woman was far too pale, unnaturally so. Her sister beside her had a healthy glow, like that of any other person from Arendelle, with the rosy hair of her father. The queen, however, looked as though she had no blood in her flesh at all.

Elsa also appeared nervous. Very, very nervous. Though unnoticed by most guests, the keen eyes of a wizard picked up the monarch's darting, wild glances, her guarded pose and her shaking hands. She was holding back something, as if she was in no way used to this. As a queen of men, she would have undoubtedly been trained in all aspects of being a ruler, illness or not. She would have had plenty of practice, considering her parents had been dead for three years. This was not normal behaviour. However, what Gandalf saw with his eyes wasn’t what concerned him the most.

The wizard could sense some form of magic at work. It didn’t feel evil in nature, just blank – and felt like one might describe the touch of cold metal. Whatever it was, it had no place at the ceremony, and Gandalf wondered if there was some sort of cursed artefact nearby, or something of that nature. It felt small, disguised and unseen, though somehow he knew that there was more to it, and that it was somewhere in plain sight.

Gandalf’s eyes narrowed. Could it be related to the nervousness he had observed? What was Queen Elsa of Arendelle hiding?

The wizard also attended the celebratory ball that began in the evening, and the cheer of the party no subsequent change in the queen’s demeanour. She appeared distant, only showing any form of true happiness during interactions with her sister. When her sister left and she was alone, her conversations with all other diplomats were strictly formal, though sometimes it was hard to observe her when throngs of nobility surrounded her. The girl was polite, but seemingly stern – a stark contrast to her warm, somewhat overenthusiastic father. Gandalf wished to speak with her, but she was obviously quite preoccupied by the large amount of guests she was obligated to meet.

A party was a party, and Gandalf took it upon himself to taste a few delicatessens here and there from the buffet table. (Iced cream was always a delight, and usually only exclusive to Arendelle.) He smiled wryly from behind a large cake when he eyed Princess Anna practically dragging a dashing young man along with her as she snuck out of the ballroom. Anna seemed quite happy enough, giggling along with her escort, so the wizard decided that he wouldn’t say a word. Oh, young love.

After ten minutes or so, the crowd around Elsa disappeared, and the wizard approached, bowing low. “Queen Elsa,” He began. “I was a friend of your father’s – Gandalf the Grey.”

Elsa blinked surprise, recognition in her expression. “Gandalf - the wizard my father would tell stories about?” 

“The very same, your majesty,” He said, smiling. 

“It’s an honour to meet you at last,” Elsa said, a true smile lighting up her face. “Forgive me, I wasn’t expecting you. If I had known you were nearby, I would have sent you an invitation.”

“Oh, I wander everywhere, there was no way you could have known. I came to offer my congratulations, and good wishes. I’ll be sure to visit more often, if ever you need assistance with anything.” He looked at her meaningfully. “Especially anything unusual that you may be dealing with.”

The monarch nodded, deep in thought. “I… I see. Well, I’ll be sure to-”

“Elsa! Oh, I mean – Queen,” Anna emerged from the crowd, the very same young man from before in her wake. She curtseyed briefly and clumsily before continuing. “Me again. May I present: Lord Hans of the Southern Isles.”

Gandalf didn’t leave the queen’s side, but smiled, appraising the two as they struggled to announce that they were probably going to start courting –

One moment, did they just speak of marriage?

Both Elsa and Gandalf did a double take. The fact that this was sudden seemed to be an understatement, especially if they had only met that evening.

“I’m sorry, I’m confused.” Elsa said, raising an eyebrow. 

So was Gandalf, in all honesty. How can a couple be so obviously eager after only meeting that evening? Anna persisted, and what was once a tense discussion quickly turned into an argument so heated that Elsa forgot the wizard standing near, observing the tense queen more than the couple as he tried to find a cause of her tension and the odd aura that surrounded her. 

“You asked for my blessing, but my answer is no. Now, excuse me,” She said sharply, sparing only a nod towards Gandalf before briskly walking away. It appeared, however, that Anna was having none of it.

What exactly was the situation? This argument seemed to be about more than just Elsa’s refusal to bless the marriage. What exactly did ‘shutting people out’ mean, and what why was the queen so attached to her gloves? Anna continued repeating the questions that also hung in the mind of Gandalf. 

“What did I ever do to you?”

“Enough, Anna!”

“No, why? Why do you shut me out? Why do you shut the world out? What are you so afraid of?”

“I said _enough!_ ”

It had happened so fast that Gandalf almost couldn’t register what he had just seen. A wall of spiked ice, the like of which that the wizard hadn’t seen in all his years walking Middle Earth, and it had been produced by a frightened, vulnerable young woman. Suddenly, the situation all made sense as he put the pieces together, and he realised: this is what he had felt before. The wizard resisted the urge to shake his head at himself. He should have come to offer his help sooner. Much, much sooner. But how could he have known?

“Sorcery,” A nearby noble snarled. “I knew there was something dubious going on here.”

The queen cast one terrified look at her sister, and into Gandalf’s surprised gaze, before she took off, sprinting out the door.

The wizard had to react quickly to match the sudden turn of events. He knew that a level head was needed, as the race of men sometimes didn’t react well to the unexpected, or the unusual.

“Keep calm!” Gandalf announced, his voice ringing with authority. “There’s no time for prejudice and superstition.”

He strode towards the wall of ice, tapping his staff against the ice briefly as he collected his thoughts. “Let us find the queen before she hurts herself, the poor girl.”

“You’re in league with her!” The short, beak-nosed lord yelled, glaring at Gandalf accusingly. “You and her are both magic users – an evil plot is being set into motion, isn’t it?"

Gandalf rolled his eyes. “If you call all magic evil, then you blindly condemn the entirety of Middle Earth.”

With that, he strode out the door in a huff, only to have that same confounded man rush past him.

“Don’t frighten her further, for goodness’ sake!” Gandalf called after the running man, and he was forced to run, himself. “You are doing nothing but making this worse, you fool!”

“There she is! Stop her!”

As Gandalf himself reached the doorway, he saw that in her fright, the queen had frozen a fountain. Obviously, she had little control of her powers, and that might prove to be a grave problem, indeed. The situation was dangerously volatile, with Elsa being crowded by citizens that may be hurt in the confusion. 

“Please, just stay away from me! Stay away!” An icy blast shot from her hands, though it was obviously accidental. It did not, however, change the fact that Gandalf was suddenly launched backwards, hitting the ground with a thump.

Skies above, he thought, lying on his back for a moment. This was bad. Elsa was _powerful_ , and obviously out of control.

“M-monster! MONSTER!” 

In addition, that confounded man from Weaseltown was becoming very irritating, very quickly.

“Elsa!” Anna called.

The wizard rose, catching a glimpse of the fleeing woman as a flash of platinum hair darted through the crowd. Gandalf immediately followed, joined by the princess and her supposed intended. The crowd around them was in an uproar; half looking concerned for their queen’s safety and the other half not sure how to react. 

“ _Elsa!_ ”

They found her soon enough, standing on the edge of the body of water that surrounded Arendelle. She looked at them with wide, terrified eyes, like a deer staring straight at the drawn arrowhead of a hunter.

“Wait, please!” Anna pleaded.

“Your majesty, there is no need for you to flee!” Gandalf called, trying to placate the frightened young woman. “I can help you!" 

Unfortunately, their calls were not heeded, and the queen fled over the water, the waves turning to glittering ice under her feet.

“Elsa, stop!” Anna’s calls were wasted. Elsa was gone from their reach.

“The fjord…” Lord Hans breathed, breaking the silence. 

Indeed, the ice seemed to be spreading quickly over the large expanse, the sound of it being large, loud and foreboding. Collecting himself, Gandalf shook his head.

“Hmph, this cannot go untended,” He said, walking to the surface and hitting the ice with his staff. There was a loud, unnatural boom, a white flash, and the ice cracked, separating slightly, until floating chunks littered the waters as far as the eye could see.

“The ice should now melt in a few days,” Gandalf said, watching the waters. “It may be cooler than usual for a while, but the weather of Middle Earth is not so easily bested by the power of a single human.”

Still, the wizard had doubts. He had never seen anything like this before, and the uncertainty was very unsettling. What caused the queen to be able to wield such magic?

“I have to go after her –“ Anna began, and Gandalf was quick to prevent any disaster caused by knee-jerk decisions.

“Acting rashly will not help,” The wizard said firmly. “We need to stop for a moment, and think about the best course of action. Not too long, mind you, but we must think this through.”

“Now,” Gandalf said, more gently. “Did you know of Elsa’s abilities?”

“No,” She answered solemnly.

“Neither did I,” He said, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder. “So, before we ride off into the night, we will need to do some research. Would you please point me to the direction of your kingdom’s records?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably see, I'm having a teensy bit of trouble with pacing. I swear, I'm working on it, and I'll improve as soon as I get into the swing of writing again. Squeezing Arendelle into Middle Earth is pretty fun - I've had to make a few changes, such as Hans and the Duke of Weasletown being Lords of certain parts of Arendelle because so many kingdoms in Forochel would make things a bit crowded. I'll try and outline most of the changes and decisions I've made in a reference story and post it here within the next week (hopefully).
> 
> Also, I changed the title of the series this is in, because the new title sounds cooler.
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading!


	3. Into The East

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf searches for answers, and Elsa searches for direction.

The candle flickered weakly, orange light fading on the walls of Arendelle’s palace study. Princess Anna quickly rose to shut the window, stopping the out of place gale that had threatened to plunge them into darkness. Nearby, Lord Hans stood dutifully beside Gandalf, retrieving any tomes that the wizard asked for.

“Forgive me, master wizard, but what exactly are we looking for?” The young lord asked, dusting off another old book and peering at its spine closely, before showing it to Gandalf. The wizard peered at it and shook his head, waving it away, and Hans continued his search.

“Accounts of any odd happenings at the time of Queen Elsa’s birth," Gandalf answered hurriedly. "A journal, perhaps, or records of odd weather or the late Queen’s pregnancy difficulties.”

Finally, they found, in a locked draw, the late king’s diaries. 

The wizard wasted no time in sorting through them, finding the relevant journal and scanning the pages written 21 years ago. His ancient eyes read of usual happenings, diplomatic meetings, dealings with neighbouring kingdoms, growing problems with goblins living in the nearby mountains… Until finally, news of the late Queen’s pregnancy.

As he read, Gandalf rubbed at his temples, trying to come to terms with how he had managed to miss such odd happenings in this part o f the world. It was almost laughable that this could have happened in such a secluded, previously unimportant part of the world. Now, Middle Earth had a formidable human with unmeasured magical abilities of which the land hadn't previously seen. Humans were so impulsive and easily corruptible in comparison to other races, the fact that one was wielding such powerful magic and was so out of control was of grave concern to him. To add to the list, Elsa was young, impressionable, confused and frightened. She was not the ideal wielder of such great power.

He stood slowly, suddenly feeling very old. There was no stopping what has already been set into motion, and there was nothing else to do but find Arendelle's wayward queen, before any more damage was done. There was no doubt that she would need someone to look to in her time of need, and she would need to be brought under the care of older, wiser minds.

"Mr. Wizard?" Anna asked, her eyes on him. He hadn't touched the journal in a few moments, and she tried not to show that she was peeking over his shoulder, keen to read whatever was so interesting.

"Elsa was indeed born with great magic power - one that creates ice and snow. Furthermore, she has no way to control it," Gandalf stated gravely. "I will need to find her." 

"Of course," The princess readily agreed. "So, when do we leave?"

"Anna, you can't, it's too dangerous-" Lord Hans interjected.

The princess looked at Hans as if he had grown two heads. "Wha- I'm her _sister_ , I have to do something," She insisted.

"Yes, you are her sister," Gandalf agreed, raising a placating hand before tensions could rise. Anna nodded, gesturing meaningfully at Gandalf as he thought he was agreeing with her.

"Which is exactly why you must stay here, with your people," The wizard finished.

The girl turned to him, frowning. "Wait, what?"

"You and Elsa are the last direct heirs to your kingdom - You are children of Aren. Your subjects need your guidance and leadership, just as Elsa now needs mine."

At Gandalf's words, Anna lowered her eyes. Right, the kingdom. Of course the wizard was right, regardless of what her heart wanted.

"I... Yes. Taking care of everything here is the most I can do to help Elsa at the moment, right?"

"A wise and correct statement, Princess" Gandalf said, smiling at her.

"Shall I prepare supplies for The Grey Pilgrim’s journey?" Hans asked.

"O-of course," Anna agreed, drawing herself up to her full height and collecting herself. "Please tell Kai to prepare the swiftest horses in our possession."

The young lord bowed, and left the room, his footsteps fading from their hearing.

"You'll be able to find her and get her back, right?" Anna asked Gandalf earnestly. "Please. She must be so scared, out there all alone."

The Grey Pilgrim nodded, giving her a sincere look. “I promise you, Princess Anna, that I will locate your sister." 

Her face melted into relief, as she trusted the kindly wizard’s words.

It was only after many months after Gandalf left, when Anna had looked back and realised that he hadn't promised to return Elsa.

~*~

Even after Elsa had stopped running, she continued at a furious pace out of the kingdom as fast as possible. She had no direction in mind besides away from the coast, and only aimed to avoid any houses or cottages within sight. Her thoughts had finished racing, and there was only one thing on her mind: go. Leave as fast as you can and don’t stop. The scenery around her changed little, as she kept stumbling through the wilds of her homeland. 

By the time the newly crowned queen had finally collected herself, she was alone, with no buildings in sight as far as her eyes could see. Her long, plum cape caught in another branch of a nearby bush, and she tugged it free, bundling it in her arms. It was only then when she realised that she was helpless, lost in the wilderness, and dressed in her full royal coronation gown, crown included.

There was no going back, Elsa decided. She had threatened her own citizens, may or may not have caused injury to the Lord of Weselton and the Grey Pilgrim himself, and worst of all, she had made Anna _cry_. Again. The crowd’s shouts of ‘monster!’ echoed in Elsa’s ears, and the young woman felt that they were entirely correct. She was, quite frankly, a danger to Arendelle, and had no place there. But that begged the question: where exactly was her place in that moment? She had no idea where she was.

The Queen’s knowledge of geography was lower than average, and her racing thoughts prevented her from remembering her countless lessons about the landscape of her kingdom. Even glancing up at the stars to find constellations proved to be of no use. She knew that she should look for Valacirca and get her bearings from there, but it was hard to find constellations when there was no book author to connect the stars and make identification easier. With no survival skills and little idea of where she was going, there was no telling what would happen to her.

Fear of the unknown gripped her, and the wind picked up around her in swirls. She realised that it was snowing lightly, and had been doing so since she had fled. More fear accumulated in Elsa’s heart. Were her people’s crops going to be affected by her changing the weather? How many peasants were going to shiver in their beds, ill prepared for the bitter cold night?

Frost gathered at her shoes, unbidden. Her emotions in turmoil, anger suddenly replaced sadness, and Elsa stamped at the now frozen ground at her feet. This did not help her frustration in the slightest – instead, ice spread over the ground, covering it in a mirror-like sheen, showing Elsa her own glare. Catching sight of the crown on her head, the woman plucked it off her head, and threw it to the ground as if it burned her. She didn’t deserve the honour of wearing Arendelle’s crown. Blue eyes shifted to her ungloved hands. Yes, even her very touch corrupted it, just as her touch corrupted everything else, destroying anything good.

“So,” She snapped at her own reflection, eyeing herself with distaste. “What now?” 

As if in answer, the ice’s reflection’s sheen changed colour slightly. Elsa blinked slightly, wondering what was wrong with her eyesight, before the colours shifted to sometimes include flashes of purple and blue. She looked up, and found the rippling ribbons of an aurora stretching out across the night sky. 

Facing the very heavens, Elsa was floored. The folklore books she had read had spoke of the auroras, according to legend, they appeared occasionally appeared to lost travellers, their iridescent lines pointing the ways to the path they should take. The fact that they had appeared in Elsa’s time of need solidified any notion that this could be a coincidence, and her eyes followed the direction that the ribbons pointed. The ends of the lights were touching the glow of the beginnings of the sunrise – east, then.

Queen Elsa of Arendelle paused for a moment, glancing at the glimmering ice at her feet, and the discarded crown that lay there. After only a moment, she turned away, abandoning the golden object and walking in the direction of the lights. 

What she would find in the east, she didn’t know, exactly. The only thing she knew for sure was that a new destiny awaited her, and that ‘Queen Elsa‘ was no more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gandalf, while being quite genre savvy, is too engrossed in finding answers to notice that there's something... off... about Princess Anna's Fiancé.
> 
> Don't worry about missing out on reading the diary, guys, the contents of it will be revealed soon enough.I tried inserting some passages in this chapter, but it broke the 'flow' of the story (???) too much and just didn't feel right. Anyway, here's a taste of what's to come - Elsa being depressing might be a bit of a theme, though I'll try and keep her wangst to a minimum. There's no 'Let It Go' sequence for her yet, she'll have a bit of growing to do before she dons the ice dress and cape.
> 
> Also, that reference fic I was prattling on and on about in the last two chapters? I'll post that right after posting this. So, anyway, thanks for reading!


	4. Lead On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna cries, Elsa shops, Mr. Oaken (not the dwarf king) smiles nervously, and Gandalf offers the snow queen assistance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, I'm late. Have a long-ass chapter as recompense.

Anna clutched her father’s journal tightly as she sat on the edge of her bed, alone and still dressed in her coronation dress. Her parents had known. _She_ had known, once, before that accident that had supposedly happened just a month before her 6th birthday. All the pieces fit together – the white streak in her hair, her sister’s sudden change in demeanor, her parent’s evasiveness whenever she had asked about her Elsa… Why didn’t they tell her? Couldn’t they trust her with Elsa’s secret? Anna felt sorely angry for a brief moment.

But then… Maybe they were right. Why didn’t she ask? How could Anna give up on her own sister when she _knew_ something was wrong? Elsa had managed to hide an extremely integral part of herself from Anna for over ten years. A power that great, and supposedly uncontrollable? How could Anna have missed that?

The princess blinked back tears. Anna was always embarrassing, uncouth, and hyperactive, anyway. She supposed she could add ‘oblivious’ to that list now, too. 

~*~

The aurora was all well and good. Its uncanny, almost storybook arrival was inspiring, even, considering Elsa’s current predicament. However, it soon became apparent that the dawn’s completion was relatively quick, and with the sun came the disappearance of the lights. The young woman couldn’t help but feel slightly more alone without them – which was ridiculous, since auroras were, in fact, not sentient in the slightest.

As Elsa’s mood settled to a steady melancholy flat-line, the sky began to cloud over, though thankfully, there was no snow.  Her long coronation cape occasionally snagged on a thorn bush or sharp rock, so she had ended up bunching the material in her arms in front of her, hugging the it to her chest. She was thankful that there didn’t seem to be any signs of travellers or settlements for as far as she could see. As a lone, richly dressed woman in the wilderness, she must have looked quite the sight indeed. 

Her legs were no longer fueled by adrenaline, and as the day wore on, Elsa’s feet started to ache, and her legs grew heavier. The rests she took became longer, and at midday, she finally sat at the base of a tree, hopefully out of sight from any possible passersby. Though she had no intention of doing so, she must have fallen asleep eventually, because suddenly, she heard birds noisily start to roost in the trees. It was late afternoon, and she felt slightly groggy. She rose quickly, thanking fortune that neither monster nor man had happened across her during her sleep.

Elsa continued on, scanning the skies as the sun disappeared into the horizon. As the dark fell, she had almost lost hope, until the aurora from the other night reappeared, and Elsa followed its path with new vigor. She wondered where this direction would lead her, after all, what lay ahead for a dangerous ex-queen in exile?

After what seemed like an eternity of aimless walking, the young woman saw something in the distance, and as she drew closer, she recognised what it was – smoke from a chimney. The woman stopped, frowning. She should turn back, and avoid contact. Yet…

Elsa glanced up into the sky, noting that the aurora continued on, directing itself straight into the direction of the small building. She wasn’t familiar with any building except the castle, but Elsa hazarded a guess and assumed that this was an outpost of some sort for trade and accommodation. Cautiously, she continued on, until she was meters in front of the cabin. She squinted at the sign hanging in front of the door, its message somewhat hard to read due to the firelight flickering behind it.

‘Wandering Oaken’s Trading Post’. Ooh, and sauna.

The young woman glanced down, eyeing her clothing. If she was to flee Forochel, she should be inconspicuous, not to mention dressed better for travel, so perhaps a change of clothes were in order. Her lavish coronation gown would fetch a decent amount of coin, which would give her more than enough to buy what she needed and bribe anyone in the room to silence. 

Elsa took a deep breath, wrapped her cape up around her bare left hand, and opened the door.

“Hoo-hoo!” A falsetto voice called, causing Elsa to jump slightly and glance at the source in confusion.

“Big summer blowout!” The shopkeeper continued in a lilting voice, as he smiled expectantly at his new customer. “Half of clogs, swimming suits, and a sun balm of my own invention, ya?”

Elsa was momentarily stunned into silence, as she wondered what etiquette would dictate her to do.  Well, answer, firstly.

“O-oh,” She said intelligently, curtseying a little. “Er, just a change of clothes and some travelling supplies, please?” 

The shopkeeper glanced down at the woman’s strange attire, raising an eyebrow. Suddenly, the thought that this was probably a high-paying customer erased all suspicion from his mind. “Ah, yes! Those would be on the shelves to your right, near the back of the store.” 

The ex-queen blinked once, before remembering that this wasn’t the castle, and she would be fetching things herself. Ducking to the area he told her of, she surveyed the shelves of goods. The clothes – plain, dark blue and hardy looking, were easy to select. However, Elsa realised one issue – she had no idea what she would need for travel. At all.

“Erm, excuse me…” Elsa began, approaching the front desk. “What, exactly, would I need to help me on a journey?”

The shopkeeper’s smile seemed to widen, if that was possible, seeing an opportunity to dictate how much a customer would buy. “Oh, you know, it really depends on a lot of things, my dear. Distance, destination… budget…”

The young woman was no fool, but at this point, she was confident that she could afford the entire store by trading the clothes off her back. She gestured to the large sapphire on the clip of her cape, testing the waters and starting small.

“Perhaps you could show me what I could buy with this, for a start? I’m willing to pay for both your wares… and your promise of secrecy.”

“Oh,” The man said, brightening at the idea of possessing that large stone. He noticed how intelligent the woman seemed, however, and thought it would be best to tread carefully, and not push his luck. If he played his cards right, he could earn a fortune from this one. He turned, sorting through a few items on the wall behind him. “Well, let’s see…”

~*~

Tracking Elsa was rather Easy for Gandalf to do. She hadn’t seemed to change course from her initial parting, and once the distance between them shrank, Gandalf could sense her magic from a decent way away. He had stopped once, when he had seen a glinting object lying in a puddle.

Upon closer inspection, the wizard recognised the crown, and the small remains of thawing ice at the edges of the puddle. A telltale sign that Elsa had been there. He dismounted, and stooped to gently pick up the crown before pocketing it for safekeeping. After resting his steed (a fine beast of good breeding and health), he rode on.

When he happened across the small trading post, Gandalf momentarily paused, knowing full well that Elsa might be inside. That would pose a problem, if there were others in the building, they could be at risk if he startled the woman. He would have to proceed with caution, and be prepared for anything. 

Gandalf secured his horse first and foremost, before approaching the entrance of the building. As the door creaked open, Gandalf immediately scanned in between the shelves, but there was no glimpse of teal gown to be seen. He was aware of the shopkeeper, however – a large, red haired man, who was busying himself with folding away some items behind his desk.

“Hoo-hoo! Big summer blowout!”

“Ah, Evening,” The wizard said amiably, though inwardly still on guard in case Elsa overheard him and thought to run. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen a well-dressed lady with a plum cape in the area, have you?”

Only moments before the last words of that phrase been uttered had the shopkeeper straightened, and then stood stock still, caught red-handed in the act of shaking out that very cape. The man glanced at the cloth in his hands, and back to the wizard, considering his predicament before answering.

“…No?”

A door opened from the back as Elsa emerged from the sauna’s change rooms, clad in peasant’s clothing; the only remainders of her old outfit being the teal glove on her right hand. She looked quite different from when he saw her last – her clothes and lack of make up made the regal woman he remembered appear to be rather plain and unassuming.

There was a silence in the room as all three people looked at each other. The woman had her eyes fixed on Gandalf, and the temperature of the room dropped.

“G-Gandalf…” Elsa said, looking hesitant. The wizard was blocking the way to the door, and she slowly picked up a bundle of supplies on the shopkeeper’s desk.

“I only want to talk,” Gandalf said calmly.

“I swear, I’m not a servant of evil,” Elsa blurted out. Behind her, frost grew on the shopkeeper’s desk, and only seemed to worsen when the young woman saw it, and gasped, stepping back.

The shopkeeper blinked at her words, and stared at the display of ice magic, before slowly backing away.

“I sense no evil influence in you, Elsa, and you command no spirits,” Gandalf continued. “Please, be calm. Why don’t we both step outside for a while, and get some fresh air?”

Elsa hesitated, not expecting such an answer, but nodded. As she gathered her supplies, she glanced at the shop’s owner. “A-are you sure that’s enough to cover the cost of all this?”

The man glanced again at the frost on his desk, and answered cheerfully in his lilting accent. “Dear, at this point, I will literally pay you to leave my store. Okey?”

~*~ 

Gandalf and Elsa sat themselves on a log, horse grazing lazily nearby. They sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the wind through the pines, and the chorus of crickets surrounding them. The wizard dug into his robe’s pocket, withdrawing the teal glove, and offered it to the queen.

Elsa’s eyes widened at the sight of the glove, and quickly took it, slipping it on her hand with practiced swiftness. “Thank you,” She murmured.

“Queen Elsa,” Gandalf said, straight to the point. “I can help you. You are in a very delicate situation – you need allies. Please, allow me to ask some questions, so that I may assist you to the best of my abilities.”

Elsa nodded, staying silent for a moment before lifting her head. “I’ll tell you anything you need to hear.”

“Good, good. Now… Your gloves suppress your magic?” Gandalf asked thoughtfully, though there was some look in his eye that suggested he thought otherwise.

“I think so,” Elsa answered quietly. “I-I mean, everything I directly touch freezes. I’ve worn the gloves since I was young.”

Gandalf thought back to when the young woman had frozen the fjord – he doubted touch had anything to do with it, but felt it unwise to point this out. It took little to realise that Elsa’s magic was amplified by fear, so the more relaxed she stayed, the better.

“As long as you cover yourself, your powers stay under control?” The wizard said, the statement more of a question to urge her to speak.

“W-well… Most of the time. I think I hold back a lot, but if I always concentrate, and don’t feel anything too strong, I can stop any ice escaping before it starts,” She said, looking down at her hands.

Gandalf stayed silent for a moment, deep in thought for enough time for Elsa to grow nervous.

“What if I were to tell you that I can help you learn to properly control the power you possess?” The wizard asked. “If you would allow me to first escort you to Rivendell.”

The young woman looked up immediately, eyes wide. “I would… I’d take up your offer immediately.”

Gandalf nodded. “We will need to seek the counsel of Lord Elrond,” He said. “Your magic will need to be suppressed more effectively in the meantime. The elves may provide you with items imbued with enchantments and spells – ones that would help contain your magic when it is not in use.” 

Elsa’s expression was that of wonder at the thought. “That would be _amazing_.” 

“I will not lie to you – your powers are not something of the like we have seen. Lord Elrond, and undoubtedly many other powerful individuals, will be interested to know what you are capable of, and what you intend to do with your abilities. A great many may see you as a threat, as you already know. I think it would be best if you allowed me to speak and act on your behalf in these affairs, so that I may plead your case.”

Elsa gazed at her hands again, taking a deep breath as the weight of who and what she was hit her tenfold. A cold breeze blew, and the young woman needed a moment to reign herself in. Her control and the summer air seeped in once more.

“I…” She began. “Of course. Thank you, again.”

It wasn’t as if she had any other choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mr. Oaken is a joy to write.
> 
> So, I was thinking of skipping the 'Elsa meets Elrond and the elves, then leaves with Gandalf when things get complicated' skit and instead skip straight to the unexpected party at Bag End. I mean, nothing happens there that can't be explained with Elsa's interaction to Rivendell and it's inhabitants, so instead, maybe we should just get straight to the dwarves and dear old Bilbo.
> 
> So, er, yeah, if anyone disagrees with the above decision, speak now or forever hold your piss - er, peace.
> 
> Once again, thanks for reading!


	5. An Uncomfortable Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ain't no party like a dwarven party 'cause a dwarven party is loud, messy, and vaguely illegal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I skipped ahead. The Rivendell chapters felt like filler, and I really needed to hurry the story along and get to the point. If enough people tell me this doesn't work, I can always edit these chapters and put it all in the right order later.

_9 Months Afterwards_

 

The doorbell rang again, and a very disgruntled hobbit marched towards the source of the noise. “Oh no. No, no, no, no, no.”  
  
“No more!” Bilbo snapped, yanking on the door handle “I was not expecting anyone, and I am ill-prepared to host any more-“

The hobbit paused. “Dwarves…” he said, trailing off.

He had been greeted with the sight of dark brown material, and two gloved hands wringing together nervously. Bilbo blinked, and his eyes looked up into the pale face of a young woman with a strained smile on her face.

“Good evening,” She said, curtseying. “Elsa of Forochel, at your service. Forgive me if I’m late, Master, er...”

“B-Baggins. Bilbo Baggins,” He said, certainly not expecting a human lady, but remembering himself, he nodded his head in greeting. True to her introduction, her manner of dress was similar to the sort of Big Folk that sold ice every now and then from the north.

They stood in silence for a moment as the befuddled hobbit struggled for words, and cold breeze seemed to blow through the air. Bilbo shivered at the sudden chill, before drawing his robe around himself. Oh dear, he was in his nightclothes, in front of a young lass, no less!

“Er, may I come in?” Elsa asked.

Bilbo nodded a little, puzzled as to why there were so many odd characters arriving at his home. Still, he was a gentlehobbit, and would not leave a lady out in the sudden cold - mysterious unexplained appearance or not.

“Um, yes… Yes, I suppose so,” He said, opening the door. 

Elsa ducked her head as she entered, slouching awkwardly under the low ceiling. She hesitated, before placing her cloak and snow hat on a nearby coatrack. The young woman wasn’t happy with walking in alone; but Gandalf had cheerfully encouraged her to go on ahead, as he had business rounding up the dwarves that were rowdily catching up before they’d set off.

Meanwhile, Bilbo had paused for a moment to ask what exactly was going on, but forgot his query at the sound of a crash from pantry, and he excused himself, rushing towards the source of the noise to try and reason with the home invaders. Elsa, being left alone in the hall, followed the noise to what appeared to be a small dining room, where two dwarves were arranging furniture.

“Ah, you must be the sorceress,” Said the one with the white beard, smiling politely.

“Balin,” He said, before gesturing to the other in the room, who was shifting the dining table slightly. “And Dwalin, at your service.”

The other, more ferocious looking individual looked up, and they both bowed in unison.

“Elsa of Forochel, at yours, good sirs,” The pale woman answered, curtseying in turn.

“Ah, and there’s Fíli and Kíli, with more seating,” Balin said, looking over at the other doorway.

Indeed, two more individuals stood, holding stacked chairs that were tilting precariously to and fro. Bilbo trailed them from behind, protesting in indignation. 

Elsa was finding it hard to put on her serene, queenly act when she couldn’t even stand up straight without watching if her head was to hit the ceiling. Snobbish dignitaries and critical nobles? She could deal with those, as they were bound by the same laws of propriety as she was. However, this was different – she had no idea how commoners acted, and no idea what was polite by dwarven standards and what was rude. Subtly, she succumbed to her habit of wringing her hands, not quite sure what to do about these new people milling about.

“Yeh wouldn’t happen to have a tablecloth by any chance, would yeh?” Asked Dwalin, as he gathered the hobbit’s cutlery off the table and deposited it on a nearby shelf.

“What? No, they’re going to be washed tomorrow,“ Bilbo said. “All I’ve got is a few table runners in my linen-cupboard, but I don’t see why you’d ask-” 

There was yet another ring at the door, and the hobbit stomped off. Elsa heard him angrily muttering under his breath as he passed her.

“Oh, Miss Elsa, would you be a dear and fetch one of those table runners, please?” Balin said, in the middle of arranging chairs.

“Of course,” Elsa nodded, grateful for an excuse to exit the room. However, when she had finally returned with a baby blue cloth in hand, she found the entire pantry and living room swarming with dwarves. At least one familiar face – Gandalf, was finally among them, but he was preoccupied with his own amusement at the scene unfolding.

Elsa resisted the urge to sigh. This was going to be a long and awkward dinner.

~*~

“Excuse me, Miss Sorceress, but would you be interested in a nice cup of chamomile tea? You seem a little on edge.” 

Elsa looked down at the elaborately bearded dwarf offering her a small mug. “Oh, thank you very much. How thoughtful,” She said, accepting the small beverage with a polite nod.

“No trouble, miss.” The dwarf gave her a cheerful grin, before hobbling off to the dining room in search of Gandalf. His absence revealed a very confused Bilbo that was standing behind him. Elsa didn’t even notice he was there.

“E-excuse me, but did… did he just say _sorceress_?” The hobbit asked, a sceptical frown on his face.

Elsa nodded reluctantly, but Bilbo’s gaze had left her when he spied an occurrence that he obviously didn’t like happening in the hallway. “No no no, that’s a very important family heirloom, put that down!”

With that, Elsa was once again left to her own thoughts, and, after a while, one thought came most often to mind:

They were _everywhere._ So many dwarves bustling here and there, carrying food towards the dining room like ants raiding an unfortunate picnicker’s lunch. Elsa had assumed that their host knew that they were arriving, but it became apparent that he did not. She had started to feel very sorry for poor Master Baggins, having to deal with his home being overrun, but she was in her own pickle at that moment. Dwarves pushed past her, brushing against her legs and making her feel so uncomfortable that she had to stand in the corner to avoid any more physical contact. There was little risk of her powers getting out of hand, thanks to the elves of Rivendell sewing suppression enchantments in her clothing and gloves, but it was still very disconcerting.

In fact, Elsa was quite thankful for the miraculous assistance the elves had given her, and she regretted leaving them without so much as a goodbye. The tea in her hand remained warm, despite the crust of ice forming on palms of her hands under the cloth. Warm drinks were just so _nice,_ and she closed her eyes and breathed in the calming aroma of the tea _._ After a small period of recuperation with her beverage, she left her corner in the hallway and approached the table when she saw Gandalf do the same. She immediately sat next to him on his left, trying to avoid the chaos that was the rest of the room.

As dinner started (not ceremoniously or officially; the dwarves seemed to just start scoffing down food in unison by some unspoken signal), she glanced at the dwarf sitting immediately to her right – a grey-haired fellow with an ear trumpet. He was hard of hearing, and very engrossed in loud conversation with the rest of his friends and family. Occasionally, he offered her platters if they were passed around, but a polite smile and a nod or shake of the head was the extent of her communication towards him.

Among the blizzard of activity at the table, Elsa stuck out, sitting still and prim in the middle of a terrible display of table manners. The room was a whirl of airborne food, raucous laughter and belching contests, and the fact that she was only sitting next to one dwarf did nothing to protect her. The pale woman had to guard any food she could keep from unknown peckish, wandering hands, and occasionally, thrown food would hit her, and she’d have to brush potato from her sleeves or wipe tomato juice from her forehead.  The stench of ale and cooked meat was in the air so thick that it took all of Elsa’s willpower not to bolt from the room.

_Conceal, don’t feel._

The last thing she wanted was a frozen table, or worse. Elsa sighed, taking another sip of chamomile in her nervousness. Her heart seized when the drink froze over immediately as it touched her lips, and she knew this couldn’t go on. After politely finishing some of the roast chicken she had taken from one of the large plates at the centre of the table, she quietly excused herself, rising from the table to recuperate in another room. The wizard eyed her, momentary concern on his face, but did nothing else, deciding that drawing attention to Elsa would not help her predicament. 

~*~

Elsa had hurriedly retreated to the nearest empty room, intent on calming herself; ducking under doorways and trying not appear too conspicuous. Bilbo, who was in the middle surveying the damages in his pantry, glanced at her as her shadow moved past the doorway. Bilbo frowned, somewhat curious – was she lost? He looked back and forth from the woman to his depleted food stocks, and then crept quietly after her.

Finally, Elsa found herself in the smallest kitchen she had ever seen, and thought she was alone. She took one of her gloves, turned it inside out and shook the frost it into a nearby dustbin. The ice had accumulated over time, and while the elven magic weaved in its cloth prevented any from escaping, it was rather annoying to walk around with swollen-looking gloved hands. The constant reminder of her powers put her on edge as well, and it was better to empty them out every now and then to avoid excess anxiety. Perhaps then, she could re-join the meal, albeit reluctantly.

Though technically, Elsa didn’t need to hide, she didn’t want to give the impression that she was having so much difficulty controlling her curse. Once his initial surprise at her abilities, the grave and intimidating Thorin Oakenshield was unlike anyone she had dealt with before. Elsa was used to being a leader – the one in charge, the one had expectations on her, yes, but she wasn’t used to answering to authority figures. He expected nothing but the best of her. Unfortunately, with her best came her worst.

_Calm yourself; control yourself…_

“Excuse me, miss, are you alright?”

At the sudden proximity of the voice behind her, Elsa startled, ice jumping from her uncovered hand and crinkling over the surface of a small nearby table. The vase sitting on it was quickly covered, and it shattered.

Bilbo’s eyes widened at the sudden display of magic, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure if it had actually happened.

“Nonononono!” The ice sorceress’ heart filled with fear as she frantically stuffed her glove back on. “I’m so, so sorry, I couldn’t- I’ll have it replaced I-I…”

The hobbit, who was cringing back one second, relaxed a fraction when he noticed that Elsa seemed more afraid than he did.

“No no, it’s alright,” He answered automatically, baffled by her apology and the fact that a sorceress just seemingly accidentally broke his great-aunt’s vase with some sort of magic.

“I’ll pay for the damages,“ The young lady continued, looking around for a dustpan or a broom or something she could use to clear up her mistake.  
  
“It’s not expensive, really, I can get a replacement easily,” Bilbo reassured her, even though that wasn’t quite true. How could he scold her for rudeness, after countless dwarves had just eaten him out of house and home? Elsa was rather polite – refreshingly so, and had been the only one to apologise to him for anything that night.

The hobbit opened a cupboard and produced a small brush and dustpan. “I mean, I did startle you - it wasn’t entirely your fault.”

“Thank you,” Elsa said, hovering nearby, uncertain. She wanted to offer her help, but she had little knowledge of cleaning – that was what the castle servants were for.

The gentlehobbit was momentarily surprised that the glittering substance was frost – ice cold, and seemingly out of nowhere. Still, it was nothing a few scrubs with the brush wouldn’t fix.

“See? There, no harm done,” Bilbo said somewhat cheerfully, after clearing away the mess.

There was a ‘bang!’ followed by a swell of raucous laughter from the direction of the dining room. Bilbo’s smile wavered.

“I’m so sorry about…” Elsa began, but had no idea how to describe the situation tactfully, so she settled for gesturing exasperatedly in the general direction of the party. “If I had known that you were unaware-“

Bilbo shook his head politely. “Oh, no need, miss. I mean thank you, but I don’t think it can be helped…” 

He stooped to shuffle through a draw, and seemed to cheer a little bit when he found a small box of biscuits hidden behind other items. “I just hope you managed to get a mouthful of dinner yourself - it’s downright chaotic in there.”

“I ate a decent amount,” Elsa assured. “I don’t have a large appetite, anyway- Oh. Are those… Honey biscuits?”

Bilbo gave her a knowing smile, taking one for himself and offering her a reach of the tin. Elsa was quite happy to oblige, being the sweet tooth that she was. They both munched contentedly on the sweets, happy to take a break from the whirlwind of activity in the dining room, until heavy footsteps started to make their way down the hall. Bilbo abruptly pushed the tin back in its hiding place, and the moment of peace was ended.

Still, Elsa appreciated the moment to make idle chitchat with their soon-to-be burglar. The good company put her at ease, if only for a little while. He was a pleasant, polite fellow, as long as you acted thus towards him - it made Elsa wonder why he was going on such a quest. This little, mild-mannered hobbit was supposed to be a burglar? That didn’t add up. Was this a mistake?

“Perhaps you could bring up your grievances with Mr Gandalf?” Elsa suggested. “There must has have been some sort of misunderstanding.”

Bilbo agreed, and marched off to do exactly that, and Elsa stood alone once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, Elsa isn't a party person. But, at least she and Bilbo are getting along!
> 
> I think I got the timelines right... I think. I'm using the timeline that is on realelvish.net, and took into account the headcanon that Elsa's coronation happened in July, one month after Anna's birthday on the Summer Solstice.
> 
> Anyway, I have little else to say right now (it's 2:30am it's too late to think) so, thanks for reading!


	6. An Uncomfortable Party Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RUDE smh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno what I'm doing I wrote this and it kinda feels like filler. But whatever.
> 
> [Dwalin voice] Here ya go. *pours chapter down your ear trumpet*

The dinner seemed to be finally finished, and as dwarves started to enter the kitchen to begin washing up, Elsa retreated once more. Feeling guilty for rushing out of the meal without so much as a word, she returned to the dining room, intent on grabbing her used cutlery and washing up. However, on her arrival, not only did she see that her mess had already been largely cleaned up, but that the room was full of other dwarves. They seemed bored, at first, entertaining themselves by rhythmically tapping their knives and forks on the table like ill-mannered pageboys.

She couldn’t exactly turn and leave after just arriving, so she was forced to nod politely at them, and take a seat as though she meant to join their company once more. The young woman prayed that they would be still engrossed in their rowdy reunion with their fellows, but that was not to be the case. They turned their gazes on the newcomer, curiosity in their stares.

“So, you’re a sorceress, miss?”

Elsa turned hesitantly to face whomever addressed her. He was blond and a little younger than the others – the one that was carrying chairs beforehand. ‘Keeli’ or something? 

“Well, yes,” The young woman replied uncertainly, not knowing how else to answer that question. She felt quite cornered from all the attention.

“Are you a relative of Gandalf’s?” Another asked – the fellow that offered Elsa the chamomile tea.

“Oh, no, we’re not family at all,” Elsa corrected. At the dwarves’ confused and almost somewhat alarmed expressions, she elaborated. “Mr Gandalf is just helping me learn how to manage my abilities.”

“Ah, you are like his apprentice?” Another concluded – a dwarf with an impressive mane of red hair. 

“I, er… Suppose?” She said haltingly. “He’s more like a chaperone, honestly. But, then again, I do learn from him…”

Suddenly, the young blond dwarf spotted an occurrence happening in the hallway, and stepped out of the room. “Here you go, Ori. Give it to me.”

Whatever was happening drew the curiosity of the other dwarves, (though not enough for them to stop their game with the knives and forks).  Elsa heard a worried Bilbo yelling something, and she frowned. Then, through the doorway, she saw plates and bowls being thrown about by the blond dwarf, and she gasped.

“And can you not do that?” Bilbo protested in the doorway, to the dwarves at the table. “You’ll blunt them!”

Elsa silently agreed, frown deepening.

“Ooh, did you hear that, lads?” A hatted dwarf said mischievously. “He says we’ll blunt the knives!”

For some reason, this show of bad manners escalated into a song, lyrics already written and choreography quite well done. Elsa would have been impressed, if not for her disapproval at how they were teasing poor Master Baggins. Bad enough that they had eaten him out of house and home, but now they had the gall to taunt him by throwing his valuables around?

They young woman sat on the sidelines, feeling equal parts nervousness for the safety of Bilbo’s belongings, and disapproval at the dwarves’ apparent glee at his protests.

Elsa didn’t know how this all resulted in Bilbo’s dishes forming a neat, orderly pile surrounded by laughing dwarves, but somehow, that’s exactly what happened. She rushed in and was almost as relieved as Bilbo looked, but everyone became silent at the sound of three loud, and somehow intimidating knocks to the front door.

“He is here, “ Gandalf said seriously.

Elsa followed as everyone rose to meet the dwarf king. However, one last thought ran through her head.

Why didn’t he just use the doorbell?

 ~*~

The arrival of Thorin Oakenshield was… Tense, to say the least. The dwarves seemed to treat Master Baggins rather poorly in her opinion, even Thorin – royalty, no less! - Had directed an insulting comment towards the hobbit no less than four sentences into his first conversation.

Very, very rude.

Still, the other dwarves had become rather disciplined and much more dignified once their leader had arrived. The journey from the hallway to the table was rather uneventful, and Elsa took her place next to Gandalf. She found herself sitting next to the fierce looking individual and tattoos who seemed to have his eye on a nearby platter of biscuits just as much as she did. When he shifted the sweets closer to him when the map was set down, Elsa almost had half a mind to reach out and grab one. 

Elsa’s mood turned sombre as soon as the discussions started. It looked as though they were alone in their quest, and things looked grim. Elsa agreed with the white-haired dwarf – _Balin_ , she reminded herself, Balin. They were only fifteen – and if the dwarves’ behaviour that night was any indication, they might as well march on the dragon with a company of toddlers armed with rotting gherkins.

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters. All of us, to the last dwarf!” Argued the young, blond one whose name she really had to learn.

His brother spoke up as well. “And you forget we have a wizard and a sorceress in our company! Gandalf would have killed hundreds of dragons in his time, and this time, he’ll have Elsa on his side!”

“Oh, well, no. I-I wouldn’t say-“ 

“Er, actually, I d-don’t think-“

Both of the aforementioned magic users stuttered at the same time, looking rather nervous.

“How many, then?” Asked Chamomile Dwarf. 

“Er, what?” Gandalf said.

Elsa, meanwhile, leant back on her chair, as if she could somehow will herself to phase through it and hide behind Gandalf.

“Well, how many dragons have you killed?”

All dwarves looked expectantly at the wizard, while Elsa kept her posture meek and her gaze lowered. Beside her, Gandalf coughed, pipe smoke escaping from his mouth.

“Go on, give us a number!”

The table erupted in arguments, until Thorin silenced them all with one shout. 

“If we have not read these signs, do you not think others will have read them, too?” The dwarf king paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. “Rumours have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for sixty years. Eyes look east to the mountain, assessing. Wondering. Weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected – do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?!” 

The seated dwarves cheered at their leader’s inspiring speech. Elsa held back, feeling respect grow for him grow at his display of leadership, even despite the poor behaviour he had shown towards their host. Say what you like about his manners, but this man – er, dwarf, knew how to inspire his subjects.

“You forget; the front gate is sealed. There is no way into the mountain,” Balin reminded them.

“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true…”

Thorin and the rest of the dwarves received the key Gandalf produced with great reverence. It was a heavy, solemn moment, until the blond dwarf spoke once more.

The conversation turned to the need of the burglar, and Elsa perked up, curious to see exactly how Master Baggins fitted into the plan. But at the gentlehobbit’s firm denying that he was a burglar, Elsa turned her gaze to Gandalf, exasperation on her face. What was the wizard doing, roping some harmless creature into this dangerous quest? The dwarves around her, especially the one sitting next to her, agreed, though some arguments broke out at the other end of the table. 

But then, Elsa paused, feeling an odd shift in the air, and then…

“Enough, if I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!”

The young woman recoiled from the wizard’s anger, startled at the intimidating display. The temperature in the room dropped slightly, and the fire flickered, though these were not Gandalf’s doing. Elsa’s withdrawal, however, caused the unfortunate woman to bump straight into the fierce dwarf’s shoulder, and flinched away from him as if he was made of molten iron. Immediately, she stuttered out a whispered apology. The tattooed individual did give her an annoyed glance, but thankfully, turned his gaze back to the conversation without anything further.

To Elsa, Gandalf’s reasons were as valid as whomever thought it was a good idea to jump down a mountain with branches attached to their legs. The reasoning was there, and in theory, it could work, but the idea was too insane for any logical person to actually go through with it. Besides, Bilbo’s protests ensured that they wouldn’t force him to…

“Give him the contract.” 

Oh, by Eru, they were forcing him to go. This wasn’t right. They were frightening the poor fellow, not to mention how pale he became when they talked of the gruesome end he would most likely meet in the wilds. 

Breathe, Mr Bilbo, Elsa encouraged silently.

When the hobbit fainted with a thump in the hallway, Elsa’s concerned gasp quickly followed. 

“Oh, very helpful, Bofur…” Gandalf grumbled.

There were snickers and exasperated shakes of the head from the other dwarves around the table. 

~*~ 

Elsa had, in her honest opinion, had quite enough of dwarves. They were pleasant enough towards her, of course, but so much social interaction was both anxiety and fatigue inducing. She had planned on going to the bathroom to hide (and to get a peek at the smallest porcelain latrine she had ever seen), but had been driven out by the sheer smell of dwarven business clogging the plumbing.

She wandered aimlessly for a while, awaiting Bilbo’s return so that she may ask where she could sleep. They had discussed it while poor Master Baggins was out cold, and Gandalf and the dwarves immediately agreed that Elsa should have the guest room to herself. Anything else would be extremely improper, even by dwarven standards, apparently.

After a while, Bilbo did appear, marching off through the halls and shaking his head to himself.

“Master Baggins?” Elsa said. “I’m sorry, but I’m feeling rather tired, and was wondering if I may retire to any guest room you may have?”

The hobbit blinked, before realisation dawned on his features. Of course she’d need a place to sleep. “Oh- oh yes, of course. Er, right this way, miss.” 

It was a quaint, pleasant room, with a fireplace and a small round window. There was a bookshelf and a small chair to the right, and an intricately carved cupboard to their left. It reminded Elsa of the small rooms of her childhood dollhouse.

“Oh, dear. The bed may be a bit, er, small,” Bilbo observed. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, really,” Elsa said automatically. “I can manage.”

“You’ll be alright with getting the fireplace started, won’t you?” He asked. “Being a sorceress and all.”

Elsa shook her head. All this time out of the palace, and she still didn’t know how to take care of everyday things usually reserved for servants. “No, sorry. My magic talents lie in ice and snow, unfortunately.”

 “Ah,” Bilbo said, looking curious for a moment. “Well, never you mind, I can help with that. I’ll just get the damper open, and then…”

With the room finally set up and fire roaring, Bilbo straightened and made for the door. “Well, if you need anything else, miss, don’t hesitate to knock on my door. Goodnight!”

“Goodnight, Master Baggins,” Elsa said. “Oh, and thank you for your hospitality.”

Bilbo paused, and turned to smile a genuine smile at her. “Well… You’re very welcome, miss.”

The bed was indeed uncomfortably small, but the warmth of the fire and the refreshing feeling of being alone were far too pleasant for her to dwell on the negatives. She curled up on the soft fabric, fully dressed for fear of damaging the bedclothes with her ice, and watched the flames crackle and snap. Deep, rumbling voices singing in harmony echoed faintly in the distance.

The surreality of Elsa’s situation was not lost to her, but she was too tired to contemplate it. Over the past few months on the road with Gandalf, she accepted that life was going to be strange and alien from now on. So she drifted off to sleep in a hobbit’s bed, far away from Arendelle, with dwarven voices ringing in her ears.

Tomorrow, she’d set off towards a dragon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elsa is such a stick in the mud. Also, I didn't expect Bilbo and Elsa to get along so swimmingly, it just kinda happened. So, looks like their friendship will be starting a little early.
> 
> Also: Since this story isn't beta read, I really wouldn't mind having a beta reader if anyone wants to. I'd just warn that I am not the easiest person to work with, since I don't update very consistently. But hey, putting this out there if anyone is ever insane enough to offer their services.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. The Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsa leaves with the others to go on a legendary quest, but not before using her potentially apocalyptic-level powers for more mundane purposes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, Elsa, if you change your mind about going off towards a dragon, I think you'd have a pretty good career working in the frozen foods section in a supermarket. Well. Until you accidentally cause a meteorological calamity. But hey, at least the tv dinners wouldn't go bad.

Tap tap tap.

“Miss Elsa,” A voice whispered urgently.

The young woman shifted, wrinkling her nose as she teetered from the brink of sleep and wakefulness. For a moment, she wondered why Gerda's voice sounded so different, this morning. Odd. 

Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap.

“Miss Elsa... Miss Elsa!” 

That voice most definitely wasn’t Gerda’s. Elsa blearily opened her eyes, taking in the sight of a small room lit dimly with the smallest peek of orange-gold sunlight glowing through the window. Only the slightest chirp of birds could be heard. It was barely sunrise.

Everything came rushing back, and suddenly Elsa felt like she hadn’t slept at all.

“Y-yes?” She called back to the voice, sitting up and stretching her cramped legs.

“Shh!” The voice from behind the door hissed. “You’ll wake Master Boggins.”

Elsa frowned, and stood up slowly, mindful of the ceiling. She walked over to the door and ducked down, hesitant to open it just in case she looked in a state of disarray. 

“Sorry,” She whispered through the woodwork, voice slurred a little from sleep. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve been sent to wake you, miss. We’re up and leaving soon.”

“Oh,” Elsa whispered back. “Thank you very much. I’ll be out in a moment.” 

“Good, good, I’ll let them know,” The voice answered, and Elsa heard footsteps as they retreated.

She yawned, glancing out the window again. It was far earlier than she was used to waking – even on the road; Gandalf had let her sleep until at least the skies had lit up more. She took a moment to make sure the fire was out, and smoothed out the wrinkled indent in the bedclothes were she lay. There was a small mirror on top of a duchess, and she used it to redo her hair and smooth out her clothes.

Once ready, she slowly opened and ducked through the door. It was somewhat quiet, save for the faint sound of shuffling, hushed voices, and the clink of plates. As she made her way to the hall, she saw something that she never thought she’d lay eyes on.

Dwarves. Cleaning.

It was a pleasant surprise, really, and she was sure Master Baggins would be happy to see his house mended when he woke. Chamomile dwarf was sweeping crumbs, and food bits from the floor; several others were putting chairs into other rooms… Even the table runner in the dining room had miraculously been cleaned of stains and lay neatly.

She curtsied them good morning as she passed, looking for Gandalf. He appeared to be engrossed in conversation with Mr Oakenshield, and whatever it was, it looked grim and potentially important, so she thought it best not to butt in.

“Ah, Miss Sorceress,” A familiar voice greeted quietly next to her. “There you are.”

“Good morning, Balin,” Elsa answered politely. “Is there anything I can do to help around?” 

“Well, yes, actually,” He said quite cheerfully, albeit still quiet. “You see, we have a few portable ice boxes in our possession. For food preservation and whatnot for the journey, of course. We’ve almost gotten all the edible supplies packed, so could you be a dear and freeze them?” 

Gandalf had notified Elsa beforehand that she’d be expected to do such tasks. It was unavoidable, and no matter how anxiety inducing it was for her to use her curse, she supposed she might as well utilise it for something useful.

“Yes, of course,” Elsa answered.

“Good lass," He said with a smile. "You’ll find the supplies outside, with the ‘Ur family.” 

~*~ 

As Balin had said, when Elsa emerged from the front door and into the early morning air, feeling secure with her cloak and snow hat on, she saw three individuals on the small cobble path outside of the gate. They were tending to the ponies, and one seemed to be inspecting the supplies, tightly packed in bags and a couple of ice boxes.

One dwarf, with gravity-defying braids and an odd hat looked up, and greeted her with a smile and a wave. “Ah, Miss Sorceress, right on time!” 

Elsa curtsied, and then stepped over the small front gate to join them.

“Yes, good morning,” She answered, looking at the supplies.

There was a very portly dwarf to the right, seemingly checking off a list. Another dwarf assisted him – one with black hair streaked with white, and, most alarmingly, an axe embedded in his forehead.

“Bombur and Bifur have almost got the rest of the potatoes packed,” Mr Hatted Dwarf said casually. “Do us a favour and start freezing the meat, would you?” 

She nodded, peeking around until she found the boxes they were referring to, packed neatly and efficiently. Her hand went to her glove, as she cautiously fiddled with the material, not yet taking it off.

Elsa was figuring out exactly how much power she should put into her task, but then paused, and looked up to see the dwarf watching curiously. 

“Well, go on,” He said jovially, giving her a wave of encouragement. “No need to be shy.”

The barest hint of an exasperated expression flashed on Elsa’s face as she glanced up at him, but she nodded, regardless. She slowly slipped her glove off her hand (and it was most definitely not shaking slightly, thank you very much).

Ever so hesitantly, she extended her bare hand, took a deep breath, and let out some power. The telltale crinkling sounded, and frost covered the meat, encasing it. Hugging her hand to her chest, she waited a moment, before deciding that it wasn’t frozen enough, so she repeated the action, until glittering icy powder joined the frost. 

“That should be enough,” She murmured, clutching her hand to her chest just in case.

Elsa glanced up, to see the dwarf pinch up a bit of the snow, rubbing it between his fingers.

“Well, that’ll do splendidly,” He said, nodding in approval.

She resisted the urge to frown. Of course he wouldn’t be fearful or suspicious, she reasoned. They all knew of her abilities, and it was foolish of her to think that they would be nervous around her.

“…Miss Sorceress, you do know that there are more to be frozen, don’t you?”

“Oh,” Elsa said, snapped out of her reverie. “Of course.”

With each bag and box, Elsa became more confident in her casting abilities. The items were no longer just frozen in uneven chunks, and were now stored snugly between blocks of ice and padded with powder snow to reduce damage. The portly cook, Bombur, was quite pleased with this gradual improvement, while the fellow with the axe in his head, Bifur, was busy contentedly fiddling with a leftover chip of ice. 

Once sure her work was finished, Elsa quickly slipped her glove back on.

“There you go, see? All done.” Bofur said, hoisting up the last of the supplies on the pony. “Did a decent job, too, if I do say so myself.”

“Thank you,” Elsa said with a half-hearted smile, glancing to the side. She wasn’t used to her curse, of all things, being complimented.

The miner gave her a sympathetic look, and a reassuring pat on the arm that the young woman flinched from. Nervous thing, wasn’t she? Most apprentices were, Bofur knew. He didn’t know how wizards and the like worked, exactly, but her youth was obvious. The fact that she was going on such an important quest with warriors who had seen more battles than years she’s seen during her lifetime created the perfect recipe for a skittish youngster. She needed more faith in her abilities, this one.

“Well,” Bofur continued, satisfied with his work. “It’d be time to go and tell the others that we’ve got the food ready, then. I’m sure they’ve finished their cleaning and breakfast by now.” 

“Oh, breakfast,” Elsa murmured, just to herself, but the dwarf caught that immediately. 

“Ah, don’t tell me you haven’t even fed yourself yet,” He said, shaking his head. Apparently, this young sorceress was far too eager to prove herself. Though couldn’t have one of their company go hungry, especially this ridiculously early in the quest. They haven’t even left yet! 

“Bombur, give the lass an apple or somethin’, for goodness’ sake.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine, really,” Elsa insisted, embarrassed. “I just forgot. I don’t think I get hungry, you see.”

It was true. She could only vaguely remember experiencing hunger in her childhood, and even that was extremely rare, as she ate as the servants cooked for her. During her journeying with Gandalf, Elsa discovered that she… never did get hungry. Or seem to need food at all, really. She had experimented, going without food until she’d feel starved or get weak, but she never experienced a thing. 

Nevertheless, her reassurances went unheeded, much to her chagrin, and an apple was passed into her hands. Where Bombur was keeping it, she didn’t know. “Now, go and tell the lads we’re finished here, will you?”

Elsa had no choice but to do as he asked. As she turned away, she cast a vaguely irritated glance at the apple. Still, as soon as she left Bofur’s sight, she took a grudging bite out of it, leaving minute flecks of frost on the ruby-red skin, and tiny frozen droplets of apple juice on the corners of her mouth.

~*~

Honey was ever so docile as Elsa rode her out of Hobbiton. Elsa wasn’t exactly the best horse rider in the world. Ever since the incident in her childhood, she hadn’t even touched one of the beasts, and only had rudimentary riding lessons under her belt before she started following Gandalf. Still, with the help of practice, and a saddle infused with the same magical properties of her clothing, she could ride sidesaddle and be reasonably comfortable. She was grateful for the horse’s patience with her – she had heard that nervous riders made nervous steeds, but Gandalf knew soothing Elvish phrases and other wizard-y tricks to keep the horse calm. 

Their time leaving Hobbiton was rather peaceful. The golden sun kissed the tips of green hills, filtering through leaves and warming Elsa’s face. The smell of fresh April air was sweeter and more pleasing than any perfume. She was sure the birdsong would be lovely too, if it she could hear it over the company of dwarves grumbling all through the morning. 

Still, after a while, Elsa could blot them all out. With them grumbling at each other and despairing on how they could have wasted their time trying to recruit a Halfling, they were too preoccupied to pay much attention to her, leaving her to ride her horse in relative peace for much of the morning. 

“Wait!” 

Their travelling group halted, and Elsa turned her head, looking back at the source of the astonishingly familiar voice. 

“Wait!”

As the company halted, a somewhat puffed Master Baggins towards them, his ridiculously long contract trailing behind them.

“I signed it,” He said between breaths of air. 

Oh no. Master Baggins, you didn’t.

Elsa did not think this was a good idea at all. Did they not see how... un-warrior like he was? Well, Elsa wasn’t much better, but she also had monstrous abilities, so she didn’t count. At least as far as she knew, all of the dwarves could handle weapons. She couldn’t see countless dangers being defeated with chestnuts, somehow.

“Everything appears to be in order,” Balin said, after checking the signature. 

No it wasn’t, they’re taking a hobbit to steal from a dragon! She glanced back at the others, none of who seemed to be openly protesting. Suddenly, she wished that they’d start up their grumbling again, just so that someone could stop this ridiculous idea from coming to fruition. Surely, there were better burglar candidates than a harmless hobbit!

“Welcome, Master Baggins, to the company of Thorin Oakenshield.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand they're off, ladies, gentlemen, and variations thereupon!
> 
> Yeah, it's fun to explore exactly how cryokinetic powers would affect Elsa on a more mundane level, and how she could use her powers in other ways to help out on the quest, so expect more of that to be shown in later chapters. Also, the dwarves are /terrific/ listeners (please spread a healthy dollop of sarcasm on that statement), so misunderstandings will abound between Elsa and the dwarves at first. So, plenty of fun scenarios with that.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. A Single Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsa does not like this road trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. It's been a while, hahah. Oops. But at this time of year, I always end up on a Tolkien verse binge. So, I'm back! For now, anyway.

Most of the company didn’t quite know what to make of Elsa, just as they weren’t sure about Gandalf. So, most of them reacted in much the same way, by just accepting her presence, but not forming any sort of bond. They never really addressed her unless they needed something, or even if they wanted a question answered, but the wizard usually took those, anyway. 

The younger ones – the two brothers, or even Bofur, sometimes pestered her a bit – wanting to talk or joke. However, Elsa was very, very well practiced in ignoring jovial attempts at interaction, and she remained as cold and distant as her homeland. They would quickly move on to Master Baggins if they needed to tease someone for amusement, as he actually responded, and the wizard didn’t swoop in to rescue poor Bilbo, as he did with Elsa. Understandable, considering how volatile the sorceress’ curse was.

“I ask that you do not anger the ice sorceress,” Gandalf would growl, shooing them off.

That, and a stern glance from a usually grumpy and weary Thorin, would be all it took for them to leave her alone.

When it came to sleeping arrangements, Elsa slept slightly apart from the others, and the dwarves would leave her alone, out of decency, considering her gender. She slept on her back, stiff and uncomfortable with the idea of sleeping around such a large group of people. Her curse meant that she couldn’t drop her guard, not even for a second.

Although, her distant demeanour didn’t mean that the sorceress wasn’t polite. No, she was, but any conversation with her was always one-sided, and her answers were short, and didn’t move the conversation along any.

The young woman felt quite sorry for poor Master Baggins. Because of how amicably the ice sorceress had gotten along with him in Bag End, he assumed that they could chat more. However, she was as distant with him as she was with the dwarves, and the gentlehobbit was left feeling quite alone on this journey.

So, Elsa rode in silence, for the most part.

It had started to rain, as they rode on through the forest. Elsa drew up her hood, but it didn’t stop her curse from making a spectacle of her. The raindrops that landed on any exposed skin quickly froze, forcing her to wipe ice off her cheeks and forehead every now and then. Her fringe was tipped with icicles, and she was quite regretting her choice not to ride behind Gandalf to avoid being near Thorin. At least up there, she wouldn’t be seen.

“Well, Miss Sorceress, that doesn’t look comfortable at all,” Observed Bofur. A few other dwarves turned to look at her.

“It’s alright,” Elsa said, wiping at her face again. “Just a minor annoyance.”

“Can’t you just…. Tell it to stop?” The hatted dwarf asked.

Elsa shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way, unfortunately. In this weather, you should probably keep your distance from me – in case any of you catch a chill.”

“Oh come now, miss. We’re dwarves, not men! We don’t get those sorts o’ sicknesses,” Bofur said, grinning.

“Well, that doesn’t mean we have to find this pleasant,” Chamomile Dwarf – Dori, Elsa reminded herself, Dori – said, huffing. “Can’t you… say a spell or wave your hand and change it, Miss Sorceress?”

Elsa shook her head yet again. “I’m sorry, the only thing I could do is change it from rain to snow, or perhaps hail. Not very helpful, I know. Sorry.”

The dwarf furrowed his brow, and called out to the front of the party. “Here, Mr. Gandalf, can’t you do something about this deluge?”

“It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done,” The wizard called back. “If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.”

“Are there any?” Master Baggins spoke up.

That- was an interesting question, actually, Elsa thought to herself, and everyone else thought so, too, considering that they quieted down to listen. 

“What?” Gandalf asked, taken off guard by the question.

“Other wizards.”

“There are five of us. The greatest of our order is Saruman, the White. Then, there are the two blue wizards… You know, I’ve quite forgotten their names.”

“And who is the fifth?”

“That would be Radaghast the Brown.”

“Is he a great wizard, or is he more like you?”

Elsa blinked in surprise. Master Baggins might be more irritated with Gandalf’s orchestrated home intrusion than she thought. But the wizard seemed to take it well enough.

“I think he’s a very great wizard, in his own way. He’s a gentle soul, who prefers the company of animals, to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forestlands to the East. And a good thing, too, for always evil will look to find a foothold in this world.”

“And what about Miss Elsa?” 

There was a slight pause, and the aforementioned sorceress grew increasingly nervous.

“…Well, she’s a sorceress, quite different from we wizards.”

“Different in what way?” Bilbo asked.

“Well, she belongs to no order, for one. Miss Elsa has not received the years of training that my brethren and I have experienced. In addition, our dear sorceress wields magic like a wizard, I suppose, but her power is more specialised in ice and expresses itself more…frequently. Elsa needs a bit of guidance still, which is why she is my charge, for now.”

Bilbo nodded, looking as though his curiosity had been sated, for now. Elsa was frowning a little, not sure how she liked being talked about as though she wasn’t there, but on the other hand, it saved her from answering, so why would she complain?

“Told you she was an apprentice,” Said the red-haired dwarf who reached that same conclusion back in Bag End.

“What? Hold two pieces of lettuce?” His slightly deaf brother asked loudly over the roar of the rain.

~*~ 

“We’ll camp here for the night,” Thorin had announced as they reached the top of the hill.

Elsa glanced around at the field; it looked like a nice enough place. But, as she glanced at Gandalf, she noticed the slightly worried crease in his wrinkled brow, and new something was troubling him. By extension, that made her feel instantly on guard, too. She trailed close behind after they dismounted their horses, and followed him to what once might have been an old house.

“…Mr Gandalf?” Elsa asked after a moment, watching him survey the ruins. “Is there anything wrong?”

“A farmer and his family used to live here…” The wizard murmured, still looking troubled, and now a bit apprehensive.

“I think it would be wiser to move on,” Gandalf calls out, louder so the dwarves could hear him. “We could make for the Hidden Valley.”

“I have told you already – I will not go near that place,” Answered Thorin as he approached.

The conversation devolved into an important-sounding and argumentative discussion Elsa felt was not meant for her ears, so she quietly and awkwardly slipped away and left them to their debate, busying herself with taking care of Honey to calm herself down. 

But when she glanced back, and saw Gandalf walking away from Thorin in a huff, Elsa’s nervousness only grew. “…Gandalf?”

He shakes his head as he passes, silently rebuffing her attempt to diffuse the situation, and she stays, rooted to the spot. 

“Everything alright?” Bilbo calls. “Gandalf, where are you going?”

“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense,” He grumbled.

“And who’s that?” 

“Myself, Mr. Baggins,” He snapped. “I’ve had enough of dwarves, for one day.”

“But Mr Gandalf, you can’t leave!” Elsa called, actually showing nervousness, and she made to follow, and only stopped once she realised she’d have to come closer to the rest of the company. That in itself was a bad idea if she was feeling afraid. Or feeling at all, really.

“Is he coming back?” Bilbo asked Balin. The white-haired dwarf shrugged, looking as surprised as the hobbit.

“I hope he does,” Elsa fretted, and Bilbo glanced up at her, concerned.

“Why don’t you get some water ready for us, lass?” Balin said kindly, evidently trying to distract her. “So Bombur can get our evening meal sorted.” 

That was another duty that Elsa and her mighty power carried – creating water for the cooking. She had no idea where her ice came from, but casting it and melting it over a fire created an essentially limitless source of fresh water.

Elsa loathed using her power in any circumstance, but if it kept the company fed and watered, then she’d persevere. It was something she could do to be useful. She just hoped that she wouldn’t mess it up in front of everyone, especially considering her anxiety in that moment.

Fortunately, the ice she casted stayed in the pot, where it belonged. With no incident, Elsa was quick to withdraw from the group, sitting on a nearby log and watching anxiously for Gandalf’s return.

Unfortunately, it seemed as though a certain two young dwarves were going to take full advantage of the wizard’s absence.

“So…” Began Kíli as he plopped down beside her.

“…Miss Sorceress,” Fíli added, sitting down on her other side.

Elsa resisted the urge to groan. “Good evening, sirs. What can I do for you?”

“It is a nice night, isn’t it?” The dark-haired brother agreed.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, these past few days,” The blonde added. “We thought we’d do some catching up.”

“I… I see,” The sorceress said, glancing away. Oh, how she wished that Gandalf were here. She felt far too trapped.

“How goes your apprenticeship?” Kíli asked.

“I… Excuse me?” Elsa asked, momentarily confused.

“Well, we haven’t seen you training with Gandalf, as he said you would be,” Said Fili.

“And you’ve been so quiet lately,” Kíli continued. “Are you sulking because he refuses to teach you?”

“I-I,” Elsa sputtered. The nerve of these two!

“I understand why you would,” Fili said, and Elsa couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. “I’d be frustrated too, in your position.”

“My brother and I have been talking, and in our opinion, you’re quite ready to continue with whatever the next step of your training is,” Kíli agreed. “You’re quite talented with what we’ve seen of your spellcraft so far.”

“Mister Gandalf should be giving you a better chance to prove yourself,” Said the blond. 

“Is the reason Gandalf left because you two have been arguing?” Kíli suddenly asked. “Not much of a good teacher, if I do say so myself.”

“Wh- I…” Elsa was at a loss for words. “I’m afraid that you two-“

“There’s no need to worry,” Reassured Fíli.

“We’re going to put a good word in for you. I’m sure the old wizard can’t stall for too long, if he’s got us petitioning him. Then he’d have to act on his duty to tutor you.”

“I… Now see here, I-“

But they wouldn’t let her get a word in. She glanced over at the rest of the company desperately, silently pleading for help. Bofur, Nori, and a couple of the others were too busy chuckling at the exchange to intervene.

Kindly old Balin, however, did meet her eye. He nodded, and subtly got the attention of Thorin.

“Kíli, Fíli” He called in his deep, authoritative voice. “Watch the ponies. It’s getting dark.” 

Oh, Aren bless Sir Balin. Ever the chivalrous gentledwarf, he was. Elsa shot him a grateful look, to which he only smiled, and inclined his head.

With that horror show out of the way, Elsa was content to sit alone and scribble idly in her journal, until it was time for supper.

~*~ 

Glóin was right - it really wasn’t bad stew. Quite the opposite, really. The sorceress sat quite contentedly by the fire, willing to tolerate the presence of the others in exchange for the hearty meal and warmth.

They young woman cupped the small bowl in her hands, relishing the warmth that she could feel through the cloth of her gloves. Ah, and that lovely smell of beef and vegetables… It was certainly no honey biscuit nor berry pie, but it was still practically divine after the day’s long journey. 

Perhaps being without Gandalf for a while was something she could manage, Elsa mused. It’s not like something horrid would happen just as he had left…

“Hey!” A voice yelled, and Elsa jolted, spilling a little of her stew.

The other members of the company sat up immediately. Fíli stood in the distance, waving his arms. “There are trolls in the woods! They have the ponies, and Master Boggins!”

Elsa’s eyes widened in fear. Trolls? She glanced over at their leader, who only nodded grimly, standing and gathering his weapons. The others followed suit, making their way over to where the young dwarf was gesturing. 

Terrified, Elsa stood as the others were, but was surprised when Thorin actually talked to her.

“No, stay here.” He said, pausing as he passed her. His voice was so deep and imposing that she couldn’t tell if he was growling at her or not. “You will be in the way. Watch the camp until we return.”

And with that, the young sorceress was left alone. 

Her anxiety spiked, and a gust of wind blew, making the campfire stutter.

~*~ 

It had been a while. They hadn’t come back yet – what if they were in trouble?

 Speaking of returning, Gandalf hadn’t reappeared, either. What if he walked back, only to find everyone had disappeared?

Elsa sat there, jiggling her leg in her nervousness. She had to do something. It had been far too long without word from the company. The sorceress weighed the scenario of the camp being unattended with the scenario of their company dying along with the chance to prove herself.

After a moment, Elsa stood, and hesitated. Reluctantly slipping off her glove, she pointed her hand at the ground, tracing a giant, glittering arrow in the grass. The sorceress considered, then after a moment, added ‘T R O L L S’ sloppily below it.

Then, without further ado, she sprinted over to where the others ran, dodging trees as she ran. 

~*~

Elsa heard the indignant yelling of the dwarves before she saw the golden light of the troll’s fire. She gasped softly, and crept forward, grasping her left glove in preparation to take it off at a moment’s notice. 

“…What would you have us do, then? Let them all go?”

Oh by Aren’s red chest hairs, that voice sounded like it belonged to something huge. The trees around her rustled from an unnatural wind.

She peeked around the branch of a tree, seeing the world’s most horrid camp setup. The dwarves on the spit being roasted alive were alarming, and she noticed that one great big troll was threatening Master Baggins.

That was all it took. She leapt out from the undergrowth, attempting to put on her most authoritative voice.

“Yes. Y-yes I…. I d-do believe you should let them go,” She announced, bravado leaving her as soon as it came. 

It was less authoritative and more squeaky. Like a hedgehog trying to stand up to a bear.

The trolls took one look at her, and burst out into ugly laughter.

“Y-you? Oh would you look at-“

“All two ounces of ya, I bet-“ 

“A little girl?”

Elsa winced. This was not how she wanted this situation to go. 

“I… I mean it!” She persevered, stepping forward. “I’m… I’m not leaving until you let them go!”

They ignored her still, laughing too hard. One toppled over on to his rear, shaking with mirth.

Well. If they were going to be _rude_. 

Elsa took a breath, slipped off her glove, and threw as much frost as she could on the closest troll.

It was an explosion of frost magic, similar to the one she accidentally launched at the Duke of Wessleton. His laughter cut off abruptly, and he yelled in surprise as the blast popped almost like fireworks.

“What the-!”

“It’s a witch!”

Her pulse racing, she fired again. Oh Eru, oh Eru, oh Eru… She’s provoked them, now.

One made a grab for her, and she screamed, ducking to the side and feeling the air shift with the force of the hand’s movements.

The dwarves were yelling something, but Elsa couldn’t make out what. Glancing around, she realised that some were shouts of alarm. An ice blast had narrowly missed Fíli, on the ground bound in a sack.

“Watch it!” He yelped. The pointed end of an ice spike had materialised dangerously to his face.

“S-sorry!” The young woman called back, clutching her hand to her chest. If she weren’t careful, she’d harm the very people she was trying to rescue.

She flung another bolt, causing the one grabbing her to stumble. A chorus of shouting drew her attention to the cooking spit, and she paled. If she didn’t do something, those dwarves would be roasted.

Raising her hand again, Elsa concentrated on the burning firewood. Ice travelled across the ground, and the hiss of steam could be heard as she attempted to extinguish the fire.

Abruptly, they were left in dimness, save for the eerie blow glow of the sorceress’ ice magic.

There were yells of confusion, and a troll roared as he made a grab for the troublesome witch. This time, he succeeded, snatching her off the ground. She screamed again, writhing desperately, but he held her there.

“Got you now, witch.”

Terror coursed through her, as she clawed at the massive forefinger wrapped around her waist. Her ungloved hand was pinned to her side, and she was far too terrified to manage to slip the glove off her free hand.

Ice grew, concealed in the troll’s hand, but he cared not. “I’m gonna gobble you up whole.”

Elsa whimpered, and concentrated on the ice gathering in her trapped hand. With a thought, she made it spike, and the monster yelped as his palm was pierced.

The sorceress was dropped to the ground with a thud, and she cried out at the impact, pain blooming in her back.

“You little-“ The creature loomed over her, growling as he raised a large, stumpy foot to crush her.

This is how it ended.

“The Dawn will take you all!” Bellowed a blessedly familiar voice.

The noises around Elsa all faded into one giant blur as she lay on the ground, stunned. Why did she hit the ground so hard? She moved her hands, feeling the slippery surface on the ground. Ah. Ice.

If it wasn’t for the bun hairstyle she was wearing, she could have hit her head quite hard.

“Miss Sorceress?” Someone near her asked, and she felt a hand on her shoulder. Another individual propped her up, and when she realised her glove was off, she recoiled immediately.

“No! No, don’t touch me!” She scrambled backwards, shrinking from their hands.

“Easy, Lass. We’re just checking on yeh.” It was Óin and Kíli before her, looking concerned. 

Elsa glanced down at where her hand lay, and saw the ice growing with her touch. She gasped, and wasted no time in shoving her glove on again. 

“Oh, no,” She’d let her curse loose when the others were close. Fear gripped her. “Did I hurt anyone?”

“Well, you gave my brother a bit of a shock,” Kíli said jovially, but faltered at the look of terror on Elsa’s face. “But no harm done.”

Elsa nodded shakily. This was dangerous – she had to be alone and collect herself.

“Excuse me for a moment,” The young woman said, standing and withdrawing. 

Concerned, they made to follow her, but Gandalf shook his head and held them back. So, they watched as the young woman ducked behind a tree and out of sight for the moment.

The dawn air grew chilly around the company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Professor Quirrel runs onscreen* "Trolls! Trolls in the forest!"
> 
> But, yes. Behold this chapter which is almost a year late. I've had fun writing this, except for the last bit. You can probably tell it was a bit half-assed, but I was having a lot of trouble with it so I just went 'screw it'. Maybe I'll fix it later.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed, and sorry for the ridiculous wait!


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